Melt Into Me
by Ryachi
Summary: Soren's irritated and Ike's just trying. Modern AU for IkeSoren... not that anyone's ever seen that before.


**I wrote this a looooong time ago and I'm only posting it now because for some reason this website needs beta readers to have a number of stories posted or something. Here's a modern AU featuring the cutest Tellius couple ever (although there are a few others that could give them a run for their money). Enjoy my unedited trash... Might post more depending on how much fanfic. net needs me to post before I can beta read (there's some self promo I guess) thanks love you bye.**

The amount of paperwork sitting on his desk was overwhelming but Soren paid it no mind as he sat and tried to focus on the laptop in front of him. Three separate spreadsheets were open on his monitor and he scrolled through them tediously, trying to find the bits of information he needed. Soren liked to keep things compressed but sometimes his organizational system got in the way of his work.

His boss had given him permission to work from home for the next two weeks. He had just moved into this neighborhood, despite being at the company for a steady four months. His schedule had gotten extremely hectic and inflexible as he transitioned into his new home, and she wanted Soren to "reset," which was how she had phrased it. The company was extremely close to his apartment and the work he currently had on his plate did not require much interaction with his coworkers anyway.

Working at home made no difference to his productivity. What made him pause his work was the loud, rhythmic thumping that seemed to rattle his surroundings. Irritated, he glanced up, which made his neck ache. He immediately located the source of the booming electronic music: an apartment in the building across from his own. The two complexes were separated only by a narrow alleyway.

Soren normally could have worked through music in the background but this wasn't even good music. The track that was currently playing was the kind of generic, trashy house music that an unprofessional DJ operating out of his mother's garage would play at a mixer with seven people.

He felt like shouting just that outside his window but the music was so unbelievably loud that his words would have been lost in the wind anyway. Soren waited a few moments but nobody decided to shut him up; because it was ten in the morning, anyone interested within a three mile radius was probably at work. He pushed himself out of his chair and closed the window, which he had left open to let in a breeze (and save on the electricity bill). The music became bearable when the blaring subsided to a soft buzzing noise until the song ended and switched to a new one with an even more dominant baseline. He had to admit that whoever was playing the music had a very nice speaker.

Nonetheless, Soren groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to fight off the impending migraine.

He picked himself up again and found his music player in his bedroom. His own playlist was enough to keep him from noticing the vibrations caused by the music but he still prefered to work in silence.

He was able to get through a good portion of his paperwork when the EDM ceased and was replaced by "All Star" by Smash Mouth, which he unfortunately was able to recognize. Somehow, the song was louder than the electronic, seemingly bass-boosted music playing from before.

If I don't shut them up that's going to be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

"Smash Mouth?" he grumbled. "Out of all bands?" He could cut a middle finger sign out of poster paper and stick it up. He could go out and buy a megaphone. He could throw a paper airplane into their window with a message written on it.

Those solutions were too simple and required too much work. Soren was feeling preoccupied and petty.

From a cardboard box sitting close to the bathroom door, he grabbed a boombox that was gathering dust along with the rest of his partying potential. After plugging everything in, he propped it up on his windowsill, making sure the music would be blasting in the direction of the open window. Selecting his favorite classical CD, he set up the speaker.

Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming…

Fuck.

He cranked up the volume and pressed play, allowing Saint-Saëns's Cello Concerto No. 1 to fill the air. Where his older music player lacked in resolution it made up for in sheer volume.

After a few moments the music from the adjacent apartment halted, so Soren collected his boombox and set it inside the room, lowering the volume so that it wouldn't carry over to ny other roms. It was actually quite calming. He let the music settle in the back of his mind while he worked for a few glorious moments.

He was interrupted again by the doorbell. It took a few seconds for the noise to register in his mind and when he realized he would have to halt his work again, he chewed on this inside of his cheek. He decided it wasn't worth it and stayed in front of his laptop, trying to type quietly and waited until whoever it was left.

They stayed. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang again and biting his lip to keep in a groan, Soren dragged his ass off of his chair and sulked to the door. He was a mess, wearing an overly large green bomber jacket and black skinny jeans that looked loose on him because of his small frame. His hair, which he had stopped cutting long ago to spite his mother, was thin and tangled.

He tied it up quickly before he opened the door but did nothing to alter the rest of his clothing. Anyone who interrupted his work deserved to feast their eyes on his disaster-of-an-appearance. Fighting back a yawn, he greeted, "How may I help you?"

Standing before him was a man of about the same age but at least a head taller than him. He had a massive stature and was wearing a faded red muscle tee with the words "BLINK IF YOU LOVE ME" written across his chest.

Soren blinked. With a shirt that absurd, how could he not?

"Hey," the man said pleasantly, scratching the back of his neck. "My name is Ike, and I just moved into the apartment building next to you."

Soren narrowed his eyes. Was he here to complain about his music? Or maybe he had assumed that Soren was the one blaring the electronic crap and was here to complain about that?

"I actually moved in with my roommate and he's a DJ. Er, an aspiring one, at least. We were testing out his new sound system and he actually has soundproof walls, we just forgot to close the window."

The entire time, Soren had been imagining some edgy teen with acne jumping around his bed instead of someone like this. "Oh," was all he could manage.

"It was probably really annoying, especially since we were playing his meme playlist so… yeah, we're really sorry about that." It had been annoying but now that this guy was being straight up and apologizing like a mature, grown adult, Soren felt like his tactic of retaliation was quite… childish. The classical music was still playing in the background, he realized. He prayed to whatever sympathetic god that Ike wouldn't bring it up.

"Why isn't your DJ friend here if he's so sorry then?" Soren didn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, but he wasn't meaning to either.

Ike hesitated, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Ranulf, he does regret the whole forgetting-to-close-the-window thing but he… He's judging your taste in music."

"Does he even know who I was playing?" He leaned against the doorframe and frowned. Thank goodness this Ranulf was in the opposite building instead of somewhere closer. He would have been unbearable down the hall.

Ike shrugged, chuckling. "Doubt it. His music taste is really niche. But Saint-Saëns is pretty good; I liked The Aquarium by him."

Soren had been trying to cut off the conversation and return to his work but… "You recognized him?"

"He was my mother's favorite. My music taste is pretty spread out so I know my basics. You need a new sound system though, that one isn't doing him justice." He pointed to the dirty boombox sitting in Soren's living room. "Oh hey, Ranulf is selling his old sound system. If you want it, I can probably get a cheaper price for you. You know, as an apology gift and all. Especially since it seemed like you were working and all."

"I'll pass," Soren declined. "That boom box isn't even mine, it's my old roommate's. I don't even know how he could left it with my things when I was cleaning out my room." Why was he still talking? He folded his arms and glanced back at his table, upon which rested stacks of his papers.

Unfortunately, Ike followed his gaze, muttering, "Cleaning out your room? Did you just move here?"

"Two weeks ago," admitted Soren. "I haven't gotten around to unpacking yet." He was currently living in a state similar to how he had lived in college: taking out the bare necessities, eating frozen food, and consistently tripping over boxes.

Ike craned his neck and took a peek at the storage boxes scattered throughout his apartment. He was leaning against the doorframe now, clearly satisfied that he had started a conversation. Soren didn't share the feeling. "Do you work around here?"

Soren nodded.

"Where?"

This guy… "Insurance company a few miles away. I'm working from home for now though, my boss gave me a few weeks to settle in."

"You don't seem to be using those few weeks," Ike noted.

"Well—" he gestured to the table behind him where his work was waiting, "—I have been preoccupied."

Ike nodded understandingly, his eyes wide with sympathy. "Well, I probably can't help you much with that but if you need some help moving boxes and settling in I can assist. You look like you need a little more muscle." He certainly looked like he could handle heavy lifting. Soren could tell that the "need a little more muscle" comment was made due to the amount of boxes in his living room and not because he had the muscle frame of a twelve-year-old girl but it still made him purse his lips.

"Thanks," he said shortly, "but I think I'll be fine."

"Seriously," pressed Ike earnestly, "you should let me make it up to you. You can play whatever music you want."

"Even Nickelback?"

That made him hesitate. "Uh, yeah, I guess. But that was a joke right? Say it was a joke."

Soren obliged. "It was a joke."

"Anyway, you can ask me anytime. I'll probably be mostly free anyway," he continued. "Just give me your arm."

"I—what?" Soren frowned and folded his arms tighter, taking a step back. "Sorry, what do you need my arm for?"

"Writing my number," Ike said unabashedly. "So that you can call me when you decide to start cleaning up. I have a pen." He fished one out of the pocket of his joggers.

Soren loathed being touched, but it didn't seem like he could deter this guy. "Do you… have a business card or something?" he asked weakly.

Ike grinned in response, which was something Soren had not been expecting. "I work part time at a device repair store, a coffee shop, and a grocery store. They don't print business cards for me."

No, of course they didn't. Out of options, Soren fished a receipt from a Chinese takeout place out of his pocket and handed it to Ike. "Use this, then."

He scribbled on his number and gave the receipt back to him. Soren pocketed it and thankfully, Ike said, "I'd better get going; Ranulf's probably waiting for me."

Soren nodded goodbye and he left. Finally… He could return to his work and not think about that godawful music again.

He sat down in his chair and turned his laptop back on, then turned off his boombox. He wouldn't need the music now that Ranulf finally closed his window.

After a while, Soren turned it back on and skipped through the tracks until The Aquarium started playing. It was one of the songs he usually skipped on his music player, especially since he had stopped playing piano after going to college.

He turned his attention back to his work, but not before catching sight of the stack of boxes still present in the living room. He felt like screaming at the thought of having to unpack later.

The receipt with Ike's number was still in his pocket. He fished it out and uncrumpled it, setting it on the table next to his cup of tea instead of discarding it like he had originally planned to.

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